The next morning I drew a black tie on the tablet and named it Alex. I then wasted an hour of precious writing time smashing my already shattered tablet against a wall.

A clear liquid started to leak from it. Every few throws I’d stop for a little bit and let the liquid drip into a styrofoam noodle cup I’d eaten from the night before.

By the time the tablet was a ball of broken glass, copper wires and plastic I had a noodle cup full. I then dipped a strip of fabric from my old stained shirt into the noodle cup.

The next precious hour of writing time was spent covering the ceiling of my shitty little dorm/prison cell with the copper-smelling liquid that had leaked from the tablet.

Alex tried to call three times – probably to brag about all the food he’d eaten, but I ignored him and continued painting.

After that it was time to get back to the real work. I cranked out chapters, I ate noodles. Hera and I threw dried peas from a sachet at Victor while he had a call with his author manager (who sounded way less psychotic than mine) and after completing two large chapters for The One Who Walks Alone I grabbed a packet of chicken chips and took the time to go through a few comments on my stories.

Authors in particular seemed to be drawn to A Victim of Web Fiction like moths to a 5000 megawatt laser...

Ariadne_Yarn

I like the wit. I like the humor. It's an entertaining read! Very relatable character haha.

FGC_Checkmate

"inappropriate uses of it’s"

I feel personally targetted.

OntoSomethingGood

Funny and scarily relatable. I like it.

Weavervale

This is some of the best uses of formatting I have ever seen.

...there were a few new reviews from legends sacrificing 100 words in an effort to help me stockpile rice crackers...

eldritch duck

I found the initial premise fun, and I'm still hooked five chapters in. I didn't expect this to be such an engaging premise, but it is really a good, fun read. The concept of a web novel author being forced to crank out views for food is a simple premise, but one that feels really fresh and new. I really look forward to reading more of these.

I hope this review gets Eli a few more rice crackers. You need them man.

...there were comments that I really hoped Alex wouldn’t see...

doravg

...Oh dear, oh deer. Writing for food. In a prison cell. On a tablet...why didn't they just harvest the poor guy's organs?

...all fairly tame so far... but then I saw one that made my blood boil, that made me froth at the mouth, that made me choke on the chicken flavoured chip I was eating...

Arthur-67

Chicken and salt crisps, what kind of heresy is this? Ready Salted or Salt and Vinegar all the way

Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.

I’m with you on the Salt and Vinegar front, but Ready Salted? Come on... They’re like the basic model chip, they go good with dip and no-one hates them, but they’re kind of just meh... they don’t have the flavour that a chicken chip has. They don’t fulfil you in the same way.

Ready Salted chips are like Victor – there’s no personality to them.

Maybe its just because I’m bored, stuck in a web fiction factory/prison thing, and I’m trying to distract myself from writing another chapter, but I’ve decided to create a poll at the bottom of this chapter.

I promise that whichever chip flavour wins I will eat that chip – and only that type of chip for the next two weeks even if it tastes like cardboard with a bit of salt sprinkled on top.

Anyway...

I was almost finished checking through comments and reading through my to post chapters when Astra, who was sitting beside me, gave a sigh.

I knew that sigh, it was the one she gave every day. A sigh that said I’m done with this shit.

I turned to her, ‘You tapping out?’

‘I’m tapping out,’ She said, standing up and stretching, ‘How you doing?’

‘I’m in zombie mode, replying to comments, scanning chapters I’m gonna post tomorrow. Not really doing any real work.’

She raised an eyebrow, and checked the room – Hera and Victor’s chairs were empty. Astra leaned in and whispered ‘Ice cream?’

My jaw dropped, ‘Ice cream? What the hell? You have ice cream?’

She shrugged, ‘My story’s been doing well lately. Thought I’d celebrate.’

I grinned, ‘I’m in. Oh hell yeah I’m in.’

So we went to her room and ate straight from a carton of boysenberry ripple ice cream. The thing was sweet and creamy and just hit this spot in my stomach that I’d forgotten existed.

‘That was awesome.’ I said as we sat against the wall licking our fingers.

‘Yeah,’ She gave a big creamy smile, ‘It’s been a good day.’

The lights in her room slowly dimmed. When I looked down a patch of my shirt was glowing where I’d spilt the fluid from the tablet. I stood up, and jerked my thumb towards my dorm room.

‘I’ve got something to show you.’

She smiled and grabbed my hand.

I gently pushed open the door of my room. It was almost dark. But there was this glow coming from the ceiling.

We walked in. I gently closed the door.

‘Oh my god Eli.’

The ceiling was glowing with hundreds of tiny stars. They seemed to curl towards the centre of the room like an arc of the milky way. Amidst the white there were slight hints of red and purple that gave the impression of planets and gas giants far far away.

I turned to Astra. Her teeth were glowing in the light. She had this little tear rolling down her cheek. She turned and wrapped her arms around me. I patted her back gently then whispered.

‘It’s probably radioactive and will turn us into mutant octopus-humans or something. But hey, it’s pretty.’

She laughed hugged me tighter, ‘Thank you. Just oh my god. It’s beautiful.’

I nodded, even though I wasn’t looking at the stars, ‘Yeah. It is.’

****

We spent a long time looking at the stars. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because when I woke the lights were back on full brightness and I had this massive kink in my neck from sleeping awkwardly.

I tried to stretch, opened up a noodle carton, threw some dried vegetables in, then turned on my electric kettle.

The pain in my neck was still there by the time I’d finished eating.

I walked out into the writing room. Hera was there banging away at her keys and Victor was measuring the length of a brand new computer screen with a piece of string.

‘New computer Victor?’ I said, ‘Lucky bastard. I’m still waiting for mine.’

Hera stopped typing, ‘That’s your screen. I told him not to open it, but he just went ahead and did it anyway.’

I frowned, ‘That’s my screen? Here, give me that.’

I walked towards Victor. He seemed uneasy.

‘Hey Eli.’

One of his hands moved to his pocket. He slipped something copper and green into it.

‘What’s that?’ I asked, pointing to the pocket.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘It’s nothing. Just a piece of string.’ He scratched the side of his head, ‘I’m ordering a new screen today.’

I rolled my eyes, ‘How big is my screen?’

‘About 28 inches.’

‘Right... and how big is your new screen gonna be?’

He shrugged, ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘Haven’t you got better things to be doing than opening my shit?’

He shrugged, tried to smile, ‘It’s just a bit of fun. It was a joke.’

I shook my head, ‘Who’s laughing?’

Hera nodded, ‘You’re not funny Victor. I take shits that are funnier than you’ll ever be.’

Victor stared at me. On the surface his eyes were boring – dull – incapable of imagination. But the longer I stared into those eyes the more I started tripping. There was this cold rationalism in them. The sort of rationalism that could take food from a starving child and eat it in front of them because they know the child won’t survive the night either way.

I found myself stepping backwards. Victor brushed past me and swept into his room.

The door closed without an angry bang – perhaps the most chilling part of the whole thing.

I stared from the room to Hera, ‘That guy is...’

‘...messed up. I know. Like sometimes I wonder if we’re too hard on him. But then he’ll give you those eyes and it’s like he doesn’t give a damn. It’s like he doesn’t even see you.’ She paused, went to speak, then stopped.

‘What?’

‘Has he told you...’ She stopped again, turned back to her computer and started typing her novel again.

I walked over, sat beside her, ‘Hera? Told me what?’

She glanced at Victor’s door, then back at me. When she spoke her voice was a whisper.

‘Has he told you why he came here?’

I gestured to the cell, ‘To this prison? No.’

She chewed the inside of her cheek and went back to her book.

‘Hera?’

She looked at me and then back at her book, ‘I’m not going to tell you and don’t ask. Maybe one day he’ll let you know.’

With that puzzling piece of information she picked up a shitty pair of headphones and jammed them in her ears, shutting me out.

I sat down. Stared at my new screen for a while, then tried plugging it into the brand new PC beneath it. The keyboard was high-end, better than anything I’d ever owned, even outside Crusher Prison. The mouse was ergonomic and would hopefully dissipate some of the pain that was building up in my wrists from cranking out so many chapters.

I looked at the back of the screen, wondering at the small piece of green and copper I’d seen in Victor’s hand. Would the screen still work?

I hit the on button of the P.C and the screen sprang to life in a pixel rainbow that was a hundred million times faster than the tablet and three times faster than my laptop. All of my accounts were already logged in.

I pushed everything that had happened in the morning to the side and started hacking at another chapter of A Victim of Online Fiction.

Just as I was getting a good flow going Alex called. I considered just not answering, but then I decided there was something I needed. Something worthy of all the reads I’d banked up.

‘Mr Hill. Good morning.’

‘Alex. Warts belong on faces, not on ties.’

‘Mr Hill. Those are mountains.’ He shrugged, ‘Although you haven’t had a chance to see a mountain in a long time. Have you?’

I leaned back in my chair. As much as I hated him, there was something fun and reliable about our mutual dislike.

‘Alex. I need something.’

‘Ahh... you need something. That’s all I’m here for isn’t it?’ He dropped his head in mock sadness, ‘Ask yourself this Mr Hill – when was the last time you did something for me?’

I laughed, ‘What about the money? Remember? All that dosh you made from my stories that helped you distract some poor woman from your face.’

He shook his head, ‘You were forced to write or you wouldn't get food. You’ve never gone out of your way to do anything for me.’

He held up his hands like a victim. I rolled my eyes.

‘Oh boohoo you whiny son of a... just the other day I did something for you. I was going to start a new story – about a guy who wears a tie who was going on a date. Except the tie was really long and he wore it around his waist because he was into furries and shit like that.’

Alex hurriedly plugged in his headphones on the other end of the call, ‘Do I need to remind you that I work in a packed office with-’

‘-anyway... this guy was on a date with his tie hanging loose and they’re walking through this big beautiful garden and then some dude comes by with a giant ride-on lawnmower and accidentally gets the MC’s tie caught in it. The tie gets wound in closer and closer until...’ I chopped my hands together, ‘Anyway I didn’t write the damn thing because I remembered you saying not to spread my focus too far.’

Alex gave a pained moan, ‘Why? Why did I end up with the smart-ass.’

‘Stop crying,’ I said, ‘And don’t say I never do anything for you.’

He rested his finger on the button that controlled the water sprinklers and I laughed, ‘Do it. I dare you.’

‘What do you want Mr Hill?’

I paused, savouring the moment as I used my remaining reads in the most strategic, necessary, rational way possible.

‘What’s the biggest computer screen you’ve got?’